“Indy says I wouldn’t need to learn how to drive.”

Damn Indy for painting a romanticized picture.

“That’s true. But there are a lot of cons that you’d never think of.”

“So is living with Mam and Da. I don’t have much freedom.”

Amos had told us about the pressure to court Cevilla, a sweet sixteen nonbeauty, who had a wicked annoying giggle, eyes the color of rotten oak, as much charm as a stubborn horse refusing to pull a carriage. “I’m not—what’s the word?—totally focused on appearances,” Amos had said—“Superficial,” Jess supplied—“but there aren’t any girls worth marrying in my community. All my older brothers found their girls when they turned fourteen. And when they had their turn at rumspringa, they didn’t find anyone worth leaving for. I tried, but there hadn’t been anyone at home.” His parents had allowed him to hop on a Greyhound from Lancaster up to Scranton just to get it out of his system, only gave him enough money for the fares, should he decide to return. They didn’t want to support him so far away from home. Most of the teens in his community had never even left during their time. Amos had an ache for discovering the English world, but when he arrived in Scranton, all the new buildings and cars and people dressed in revealing clothes spooked him, so he wandered off and spent the rest of his money on cheap gas station corn dogs and beef jerky.

“What happens if you don’t go back?”

“Shunned. I become an Englishman, I guess.”

“Is that what you want?”

The waning moonlight weakly pales over Amos’ face, not even confused or troubled. “Indy is very encouraging.”

“Don’t believe her too much. She has her own problems.”

“But don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“We heard you in the creek. And Indy told me about your past.”

Before New York was life in Islandia, a village off of 495. Our parents golfed at Wind Watch Country Club, had everything they demanded within seconds. When the Acura NSX was marketed, we all snagged our own wheels with our parents’ money. No one really competed to seem the richest—we already were. It was empty luxury. So when we moved to the city we were back to the bottom, a place we never knew. It wasn’t comfortable for a month and a half, not knowing what to do with our lives, but we stuck together. None of us dipped into our trust funds before we found the jobs at Kozmo.com and messed around with managing the site and fielding customer calls. We had it too good.

There’s been rumors of the Boston and Chicago offices closing down without technically laying off employees—apparently the Houston branch locked its doors and shut out the people expecting to work their schedule. We are invincible, Indy claims. No one can touch us. Our boss gave our department this vacation so we can return ready to work and stop dawdling and stalling business. We would’ve rather gone to the beach, but with all the shark attacks along the east coast, he forced us to stay landlocked.

“I don’t really have problems. I just want something more.”

We’ve looped back to our grounds, where no one is still awake. Amos stokes the fire. “I’ll be up for a while longer.” He takes the NY Mets lawn chair that Jess had bought at the first World Series game against the Yankees and sinks back, looking up at the canopy of red cedars.

“You wouldn’t get these stars in the city. Just neon flares.”

“That’d be all right. I’ve only known the earth all my life. Might be time to see how the world can be artificial.” Horses for horsepower. Clotheslines for dryers. Candles for bulbs. Blues for any other color. We could never imagine a lesser environment to grow up in.

“What are you thinking?” Amos asks as he tosses a twig into the dwindling flames.

“How easy it would be to give up my life and move on.”

“Where would you go?”

“Away from the city. Somewhere quiet. Where no one is snooty.”

“Snooty?”

“Full of themselves. These guys are great and all, but Indy? Alcoholic. Penelope is always irritated about some shit. Jess hates anyone outside of his circle. We all can see our end if we keep this up. I’m the only one who can see my way out before something bad happens.”

“Why worry so much?”

“Don’t want to end up like my parents, I guess. They don’t care about anyone else. My dad practically forced me out when it was time to go to college. I went to the only place that accepted me, and after I graduated, I wasn’t allowed to come back home. I had to figure it out right away. The other guys had help.”

Amos studies the sky and thumbs through his beard. “Mam and Da didn’t want me to leave. They wanted me to marry Cevilla because her family is really close with mine. I don’t know. Shouldn’t I experience more first before settling down?”

The caveat with relationships is that the second we choose someone, we’ve already settled.